Nanimo Nai
by kaliawai512
Summary: They both won in the end, and in winning, they lost everything they had come to know as their lives. They are different, but perhaps in their hidden likeness, they may find hope for the future yet to come. Post-canon. Non-romance.


**Okay, straight to business.  
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**For those of you who have read "Mirai made," this story was vaguely referenced to somewhere in the middle of that – it also might be "linked" with "Tanjoubi." It's non-romance, as with just about all my stuff—but as always, I mean no offense to any pairings, and as the reader, you are free to interpret my writing as you please. It's rated for vague references to violence. I think this would take place about a month after Atem left for the afterlife (making this early-mid September, according to my personal anime timeline). For those who don't know much about Japan, Japanese people have a "genkan" at the front of their house or apartment where shoes are removed. Shoes are **_**never **_**worn into a Japanese house, though sometimes one may wear "house slippers."**

**"Nanimo Nai" has various interpretations. Literally, it means "There is nothing." But I originally thought of the title in English, and my chosen meaning is "Empty."  
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**From what I've seen, I would think most of the YuGiOh characters would be very affected by the events of the end of the series. I mean, they were drastic, and most of their lives would be changed forever. Yuugi, at least in my opinion, would be the most affected, given all that he lost. But one of the quieter characters would probably have been quite affected as well.**

**Who is this story really about? You decide.**

**I wrote the finishing details on this while listening to the main theme from **_**Schindler's List. **_**So that may have made certain parts more depressing than they otherwise would have been. And yet somehow I think listening to the song reminded me of some parts of the story I had forgotten to include before, so maybe it helped. If you haven't heard it, listen. It's worth it.**

**I hope you all enjoy, and please, please review! **

_Nanimo Nai_

He had always been that kid the teachers asked to bring homework to sick classmates.

Early on in middle school he had usually volunteered, not because he actually knew where anyone's house was—he had to get their address from the front office—but because he was the kid who never had anything to do after school got out. Once high school started he had stopped volunteering, but apparently his reputation had carried over from the middle school teachers to the high school teachers, and they always asked sweet little Mutou Yuugi-kun to carry homework to the absent students.

Well, at the very least, if they were sick, they couldn't try to beat him up.

Sometimes, nowadays, Honda-kun or Anzu would go with him. Jounouchi-kun, if he had a spare afternoon. Not because they actually thought someone would try to beat him up—for some reason, that nervousness had never come back even now that he no longer wore the Puzzle—but because they thought he should not have to go alone.

He went alone today. Anzu had been busy looking for another secretive after-school job—and made all three of them swear on their lives they wouldn't tell—and Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun had homework. Yuugi had finished his homework early with all the free time he had, so again, the teachers asked him. He didn't mind.

He shifted the pile of papers in his arms, and wondered why he hadn't bothered to put them in his backpack before leaving the school. It wasn't a long walk to the mansion, but even with the new physical strength he had gained over the past year, his feet already hurt, probably because of how often he had to adjust his grip on the homework. And maybe because the elevator had broken and he had to climb seven flights of stairs the hard way.

When he was sure no one was looking, he chuckled, and muttered to himself that even after all that had happened, his rotten luck hadn't changed.

He thanked his only bit of luck that the apartment was the first in the hallway, and that he hadn't accidentally taken the staircase that put him at the _other _side of the building. He breathed in and out, and shook his legs to get rid of the cramps that were starting to form. He looked at the label and nodded. It hadn't even been replaced since he had come here so long ago.

Yuugi slipped a hand away from the stack of papers and pressed the buzzer.

For a moment, there was only silence. The expected silence after the ringing of the buzzer had left Yuugi's ears, and he imagined the one inside was still trying to figure out what the unfamiliar sound had been. There was a pause, in which Yuugi stood perfectly still until he heard the faint pattering of feet. Closer and closer.

And finally, the click of two locks, and the turning of the knob.

The door creaked open and a face peeked out, eyes blinking and wide.

"Yuugi-kun?"

The voice was familiar. Familiar enough, anyway, and Yuugi did all he could to smile even when that face just looked at him with a baffled expression, ever unchanging and a little bit dark. The mess of hair surrounding his face suited the darkened look in his eyes, somehow, and somehow Yuugi did not like that at all. But he smiled anyway.

"Bakura-kun," he started as he gave the best respectful nod he could give without dropping the papers. "Hi."

Bakura-kun blinked and did not quite nod in return.

"… hi."

Yuugi suddenly became far more aware of his own breathing and the breathing of the one in front of him as he stood just outside the doorway of the first apartment of the eighth floor. He became aware of the papers in his hands that now seemed heavier than before. And he became aware of the very gravity holding him down and making him feel as if he couldn't quite move from that spot unless someone shoved him aside.

The familiar face that met his gaze was not quite as familiar as it once had been. It was Bakura-kun, of course. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the same Bakura-kun he had known for over a year now, since that day he transferred into their class when they were both freshmen. He still had that long, thick white hair and big brown eyes and skin that always seemed a little pale, though whether that was natural or due to lack of sunlight Yuugi had never been quite sure.

Yes, it was Bakura-kun. And yet somehow it wasn't.

Yuugi cleared his throat and shifted the papers in his hands. "I, uh, brought your homework." He flicked his eyes down and up again. "Since you … haven't been at school for a while."

Bakura-kun, who had seemed to fall into some sort of dead trance, nearly jumped and blinked four times fast.

"Oh! Um … yes, um, thank you."

He still stood there, not moving a finger to take the papers or step away from his spot. Yuugi stayed as well and stared at the taller boy, noticing the details easier now, the dark circles under his eyes, how the paleness of his skin now seemed more clammy and dull. Like the aftermath of a bad cold.

It felt like a minute later when Bakura-kun jumped again. He shuffled back and motioned with a hand. "Come in, come in! Sorry …"

The last word was muttered, meant and true but uncertain, like it had become a reflex and he didn't even know what it meant anymore.

But Yuugi didn't listen to the part of him that wanted by some old instinct to make sure there wasn't an evil spirit lurking around the corners, and he walked the path Bakura-kun had made for him into the little genkan of the apartment as Bakura-kun closed the door behind him.

Yuugi didn't know whether to be concerned when he bolted it.

It had been a very long time since Yuugi had last come to Bakura-kun's house. Even longer now that he really thought about it. He had only been here once, and then he had come with Anzu and Jounouchi-kun and Honda-kun. It had been one of their first attempts at friendship after he transferred and instantly gained the reputation of girl magnet and reclusive freak—mostly reclusive freak, but it had always struck Yuugi as interesting and Jounouchi-kun as unfair that he seemed to gain the attention of every female student as soon as he walked in the door.

But Yuugi had never seen him show those girls any attention or play up his reputation, so after a while his confusion turned to pity that the boy couldn't go anywhere in the school without being watched.

The apartment hadn't changed much since last time. It had been very clean then, and it was very clean now, almost so much that Yuugi might have been worried if it were anyone else. But the place fit Bakura-kun. It fit him in the neat, tidy genkan where Yuugi slipped off his shoes, a task made particularly difficult with the papers keeping both of his hands full, the difficulty itself deciding that it wasn't worth the trouble to put on the carefully arranged house slippers by the wall. It fit him in the short hallway and the living room with the old, worn, baby-blue couch that seemed somehow out of place, and yet also somehow determined that it belonged there and was going to stay exactly where it was.

The entire apartment fit Bakura-kun. And yet Bakura-kun still scrambled about as if he had never been here before. His hands twitched when they motioned toward the sofa, and he did not offer more than a tiny, forced smile before turning on his socked heels and starting off toward one of the doorways in the opposite wall.

A mouse in a grizzly bear's den.

Yuugi paused, as if in a hesitation even he didn't really understand, before sitting himself down on the small couch as Bakura-kun disappeared into the other room. He thought about following him, but Bakura-kun scurried forward like a chipmunk right before winter. Nervous. Skittish. And Yuugi honestly wouldn't have put it past the boy to jump and drop whatever he was holding if Yuugi were to show up in the kitchen behind him.

He shifted the papers in his fingers and quirked his head, even though he knew no one could see, as he listened to the clinking of glass and plates and the sizzling of boiling water in a pot.

"How have you … been?"

Yuugi called out quieter than he had intended, loud enough for his voice to echo but being quickly cut off by a screech of steam. More clinking. The gentle shuffling of socked feet sliding across the floor. Half a minute later Bakura-kun emerged from the kitchen doorway, a tray in his pale hands holding a real European teapot and two steaming china cups.

Bakura-kun paused, just for a moment, and blinked, as if Yuugi's words had only just managed to reach his ears. He swallowed.

"Oh, I'm fine, fine." He adjusted the platter, and one of the teacups almost slid. "Really."

Yuugi clasped his hands and leaned forward on the couch. "Have you been sick?"

This time Bakura-kun almost dropped the tray.

He jumped, if only a little, and his eyes shot wide open like he had just been asked if he had been spending the last two months living under a newspaper. He blinked, once, twice, then found a firmer grip on the tray to adjust the teacups and pot. His eyes softened, and after a moment during which Yuugi nearly stood up to ask if he could help, Bakura-kun shook his head.

"Hm? Oh … no."

Yuugi didn't say anything, no matter how much he wanted to. He wanted to stand and help with the tea, to put a hand on Bakura-kun's shoulder and offer comfort for something he did not quite get. But he just stayed there, sitting as Bakura-kun shuffled the rest of the distance and settled the tea tray on the little table in front of the couch. Steaming tea poured into cups, and the first cup was set in front of Yuugi with a politeness few of his other classmates had managed to retain.

But even when Yuugi smiled, Bakura-kun did not smile back.

Yuugi sighed, quietly enough so as to not be heard, and held out the homework he had almost forgotten he had.

"Here you go."

Bakura-kun blinked, then glanced at the papers in Yuugi's hands. For a moment he didn't seem to understand, like they were written in German and the text had all been smudged by water. He blinked again and finally nodded, slipping the homework sheets into his grasp. "Thank you."

He shuffled them in his fingers to form a neat stack. He didn't look back at Yuugi for nearly a minute as he flipped through the tops of each of them, scanning the titles and the various subjects Yuugi had had to gather from every teacher who offered classes at their level, as their homeroom instructor hadn't seen fit to do it herself. His eyes remained wide, almost disbelieving, and his fingers still gripped each paper like an alien life.

He let out a long breath. "I've really missed this much?"

"A little over a week's worth."

"Oh … right, yes."

Yuugi fidgeted, something he hadn't imagined himself doing much here. Even he couldn't quite tell why. He wrung his hands resting in his lap now that they were free of the homework, and he picked up his tea to sip at the hot liquid. Standard green tea. But sweet and rich in taste.

"Sensei said she would have sent it home sooner, but …" Yuugi stopped, and no matter what he tried he couldn't find the right words to finish. He adjusted the tea cup and took another sip.

"She's … used to me missing," Bakura-kun muttered, and he rubbed his arm as he settled himself onto the couch without ever looking truly comfortable. He didn't meet Yuugi's eyes. "I usually just catch up when I get back."

Yuugi blinked and bit the inside of his lip.

"Do you want me to just take it back and you can do it when—"

"No." The response was curt, but Yuugi sensed no malice in the voice. Still, Bakura-kun did not look up, and merely nodded toward his cup of tea. "No, this is … better. Really."

A million things for Yuugi to say. A million things not to say. And Yuugi chose not to say them, and he let Bakura-kun's words fade into the quietness of the entirety of this place. It was a big apartment, now that he really thought about it. Bigger than most. Everything so clean and well-taken-care-of. But not the sort of place one usually lived in alone.

Yuugi imagined a room down the hall with a mother and father. He imagined parents, maybe siblings—had Bakura-kun had siblings? He imagined a family that was not there. A family that had vanished through means that had never been explained, leaving only the quiet boy with the white hair and timid personality. Here, all alone.

And when Yuugi looked back, Bakura-kun met his gaze.

"How's your tea?"

Yuugi fingered his cup as he downed the last of the drink in one long sip. It soothed his throat though his throat did not hurt, and he swished the lingering flavor around in his mouth as if to appreciate it. "Good. Really good. You're really good at this, Bakura-kun."

Bakura-kun's cheeks turned from the nervous, pale, uncomfortable pink to a bright cherry red that stood out on his face like paint.

"Oh, not really …" He rubbed his arm again, and didn't seem to notice that his teacup was still sitting on the table. He met Yuugi's eyes for only seconds at a time, avoiding them for as long as he could in between, like there was something painful about eye contact. "I just have a lot of practice."

"Oh, right."

The cup in Yuugi's hands was still warm, even hot, though the liquid inside had gone. It glowed with a livelihood that could not have been there, like the Puzzle had been warm in his hands when he was happy, and how it had been warm when he was sad, like a hand on his shoulder or a caring embrace. And Yuugi had told himself that gold could not be warm on its own, but it had still been warm, like the smile of the transparent figure that offered whatever happiness he could.

He closed his eyes and opened them again.

"Bakura-kun … why have you been missing school?"

Bakura-kun looked at the floor in front of the couch. Yuugi flicked his eyes over to see a small stain on the carpet that had been scrubbed out a long time ago. It was difficult to see what it had once been. Maybe a juice spill or a piece of fruit dripping. It looked as if it had once been red. Dark and crimson and thick.

Yuugi leaned in. "Bakura-kun?"

"Are you done with your tea?"

Yuugi blinked, once, twice, then let out a sigh he knew could not be heard by anyone aside from himself and nodded to make sure the boy sitting next to him could see. He held out his cup. "Yeah."

Bakura-kun didn't even look him in the eyes as he took the teacup in one of his palms along with his own, which Yuugi only just noticed he hadn't touched at all. He stood from the couch without a word, though also without anything that resembled anger in his demeanor. Yuugi stared from his spot sitting there for just a moment, and he watched the figure with slouching, uncomfortable shoulders shuffle off toward the kitchen, balancing the teacups as if it was so second nature he had forgotten they were there. Not a drop of green tea was spilled from his own.

After a moment, Yuugi stood as well and walked after him as quickly and quietly as he could. He was well aware Bakura-kun knew he was following him. But Bakura-kun still didn't turn, even when Yuugi stepped through the doorway into the kitchen and just stood there, looking around at the perfectly-organized cups and silverware and dishes and little disposable chopsticks. At Bakura-kun standing in front of the sink scrubbing out each cup with almost impossible care, the water running just enough, streaming into the sink and splattering at the bottom, the only sound that made Yuugi feel this room had a speck of life.

Bakura-kun switched off the faucet with two fingers and picked up a hand towel.

"I woke up one night, around two in the morning, maybe three, I didn't check." He wiped dry each cup with a gentleness Yuugi had never been able to fully associate with him for all the darkness that had always hovered over him. The gentleness of a child caring for a precious doll, but not a child who still believed the doll was real. Bakura-kun swallowed, loud enough for Yuugi to hear. "And … and I just had this _feeling _that he was there."

There were millions of things Yuugi wanted to say then. He couldn't even be sure of any of them, but he knew, and he nearly opened his mouth to speak after the silence set in once again, aside from the squeaking of the cloth against the china cups.

"I told myself I was being silly." Yuugi jumped as Bakura-kun spoke again, still not turning around, still not daring to look Yuugi in the eye. His shoulders twitched twice in a row, and Yuugi wondered if Bakura-kun even noticed. Bakura-kun breathed out heavy and hard, until he finally moved just enough so Yuugi could see part of his face. "I … got up to make some tea, get a snack. But … in every room, before I turned on the lights … _he _was there. I kept seeing him. Everywhere. I … I know it wasn't _real, _but it … _felt _real. More real than anything."

Yuugi stepped forward.

"Bakura-kun …"

"I woke up the next morning," Bakura-kun went on, louder this time, clearer, as if he had not heard Yuugi's voice at all. He stared at the cups as he set them on the counter like there was something incredibly interesting hidden there. He did not smile or frown. He just stared in blank acceptance, and confusion he did not even seem to notice. "Finally got to sleep, really late. And I just … couldn't go to school. I just kept walking around the apartment, looking for him. I kept thinking he was there."

He just stood there for what felt like an eternity and a half. Yuugi stood there next to him, not daring to step closer but not wanting to move any further away. Bakura-kun did not meet his eyes. He stared at the floor like there was something there to look at. Like his eyes had glazed over and he was no longer certain where he was.

Bakura-kun picked up the cups and started, slow, methodic, walking back into the living room, and Yuugi followed him until they were both settled again on the couch and the empty cups had been set back on the tray. The couch suddenly seemed more stiff and unpleasant, like the fabric was too soft or the cushions were too full. Yuugi wanted to reach over and give the boy who sat next to him a hug, a pat on the shoulder, like Jounouchi-kun would do on rare occasion when he was upset.

Yuugi stayed still, though. He stayed still and listened.

Bakura-kun clasped his fingers and rubbed them back and forth.

"He was always there, Yuugi-kun," he whispered. His voice went hoarse, raspy, somehow both old and wise, knowledgeable enough for more than a lifetime, and yet young, like a little child hiding in the closet after the parents have fought and screamed, and the child has nowhere left to run. He shook his head. "I mean … at first he would go away sometimes, but he was never really gone. And then … after Duelist Kingdom, he never really let me go. I might get control for a few minutes, once I think I got a whole day but I was too scared to _do _anything. I think he must have gone to school for me, done all sorts of things, but I was never really sure."

He paused. Yuugi knew he could have said something, but he didn't. The cushions shifted against their slight movements. Bakura-kun swallowed.

"After Battle City, he chased me for a while. I tried to keep him back, I really tried, but … he never left. Even when I didn't have the Ring, he was _there. _He was evil, he was horrible, but he was … a part of me." Thumbs rubbed over palms, as if for warmth, or comfort he could not give himself. He did not look up, but his brown eyes shimmered with fear and loss and more fear, more than anyone should ever have to know. "And then … it was all over, and he was just … gone."

"Bakura-kun?"

Yuugi leaned over on the couch and noticed how the cushions squeaked on old springs. He wondered how long it had been there. He wondered what sort of horrors it had seen.

Bakura-kun shook his head, almost frantic, then more slowly, and sighed. "Sorry … Yuugi-kun."

Yuugi quirked his head in as gentle a manner as he knew one could. "Why?"

"I must sound terrible, don't I?" Bakura-kun stared at him with a look that would have seemed accusatory on anyone else. But on him it looked desperate. Perhaps like he wanted to believe the horrid thoughts running through his head, wanted to believe that something was wrong with him. Wanted to believe that he had lost his mind and that somehow explained all he felt, all the swirling emotions Yuugi had already grown so familiar with in the short time since they first appeared. Bakura-kun gripped his hands tight enough to make his knuckles turn white. "I wanted him gone. I always wanted him to leave me alone. And you all did that for me. And look at me. Just look at me!"

It was on reflex that Yuugi picked up one of the clean, empty cups on the table with careful fingers and poured in a fair amount of the tea that was only just beginning to cool. It did not steam, but it warmed the china, and somehow something felt welcoming and almost sympathetic in that lifeless heat. He held the cup out to Bakura-kun, who had yet to look up.

"Here."

Bakura-kun only glanced once at the tea, and once at Yuugi, before looking back to his hands. But he reached out and took the cup in his fingers and sipped at it bit by bit for nearly a minute full of nothing but silence. Silence and sipping, breathing, the beating of the two quiet hearts in the quiet apartment in the emptiness that ached around them.

"I miss him, too."

Bakura-kun flicked his eyes up, wide brown eyes that stared in a shock Yuugi had a feeling was not good, and he nearly jumped out of his seat upon realization.

"Atem, I mean," he scrambled to add, and Bakura-kun dropped his tense shoulders but did not let go of his stare. Yuugi shifted. "I know it's different, he was a friend and _he … _wasn't, but … I know."

Yuugi looked at Bakura-kun for a long time after that. The room was almost totally silent, except for the occasional movement of the fabric of the couch or the faint sounds of bustling people and cars outside of the mansion. But mostly, it was quiet. Peaceful. And Yuugi wasn't sure whether or not, right now, that was good.

Bakura-kun broke his gaze and stared at the floor. His eyes had grown strangely soft. Not calm, but quiet like the room. Darkness Yuugi had never been able to see before now swirled in the brown, and each blink made the shimmering of those eyes look more and more like tears. His voice came as a whisper, hardly loud enough to catch.

"I felt so free at first." He swallowed and furrowed his brow, shaking his head to what seemed nothing in particular. "It was what I had wanted, you know?"

"Mm-hmm."

Bakura-kun rubbed his arms, as if the apartment had somehow grown cold, even though the air conditioning was clearly turned off and it was still a warm day outside. "But he was here for so long. I had the Ring for a long time, and I knew he was there, even when I didn't _really _know."

He shook his head. Slow at first, then growing in speed and fervency, almost so fast that it seemed he was trying to deny something of someone standing right in front of him. So much that his hair shook back and forth, and it seemed that he had lost that faint grip he had on the solid and the real. He bit his lip as obviously as one could and went still.

Bakura-kun swallowed and drew a breath. "It's like … a part of me was …"

"Torn out?"

Yuugi's chest clenched when the words left him, and he wasn't sure if it was because he regretted them or because the memories were beginning to jar in his heart and his head. Because the old pain that had not had time to grow old yet was dug up again, and he was reminded that it was real, that it was not just some illusion.

That it was over.

That he was gone.

Bakura-kun looked at him, not as surprised as Yuugi would have suspected. He blinked, and he clenched his hands. But after a few seconds more, he nodded, and swallowed what seemed to be a million protests and a million other things he could have said.

"Yes …"

"I … know," Yuugi whispered. The ache within him grew to a sting, and he resisted the urge to grip his chest. A moment later it began to dull, settling in, and Yuugi breathed out and stared at his hands and Bakura-kun's, each to their sides and resting on the couch. Different, he supposed, but right now it was so hard to tell the difference. He nodded, though it felt more to himself. "I know how that feels."

Bakura-kun didn't give an answer, and Yuugi wasn't sure if he had expected him to. He looked away for moments as if trying to relieve himself of some kind of internal tension, and Yuugi could see that he was uncomfortable. But Yuugi only paused, not stopping, not letting go. He couldn't.

The night is darkest just before the dawn.

Yuugi gave a nod to nothing he could see. "I tried to tell myself it would just go away in a day or two. I knew it was supposed to happen. And … that was what was _right, _it was where he was _supposed _to be." His voice nearly broke on the last word. He tried to imagine that he didn't feel the tears building behind his eyes, that he didn't feel the deep pressure within his chest as the old wounds were opened once again, though they had had little time to heal yet at all. He leaned to meet Bakura-kun's eyes, but Bakura-kun just looked away. Yuugi sighed. "But he really was a part of me. Like _he _was. Different, but … the same, too. After a while, it was hard to imagine how things were before he was there."

Bakura-kun rubbed his hands together as if for warmth, though the apartment was plenty warm and the air outside hadn't even begun to gather a chill.

"… I don't even feel like me anymore. I'm not sure I even know what 'me' is _supposed _to feel like."

He breathed out, and the silence suddenly grew heavier than it had felt since the silence standing in that underground dueling arena, as the door to the bright light opened and his other self stood before it in the seconds before he spoke his name. The silence of knowing how much pain was yet to come, the silence of knowing that it was over, and yet it was not over yet. Wounds had yet to turn to scars, and scars would still remain.

The silence weighed down on him, and in the silence, he listened to the thumping rhythm of his own heart.

Yuugi looked up, straight at Bakura-kun, even though Bakura-kun still stared at his hands in his lap as if he had forgotten Yuugi was there at all. Yuugi swallowed, and resisted the urge to reach out and pat his arm. "Do you remember in Duelist Kingdom, when … he pulled us into a shadow game, and we all turned into monster cards?"

Bakura-kun still did not look up, but his shoulders stiffened, and his eyebrows grew tense.

"… yes."

"And you were the Change of Heart."

Bakura-kun flicked his eyes to meet Yuugi's, and Yuugi did all he could to keep that gaze locked. Even a moment later, Bakura-kun had not looked away, and he offered a very small nod. "Yes, I remember."

Yuugi leaned in a little more, looking him straight in the face. He knew how serious he must have seemed, he could feel the determination glistening within his own eyes. But he let it stay there, and he let himself remember how far along they had come. He let himself feel the comfort of the present, and the pain of the past, and he imagined he could let them meld together into one big mess of calm and ache.

He lowered his head, just a bit, and stared at Bakura-kun with all that calm and ache he did not quite understand.

"And even though you knew you would be locked away forever, even killed, you were willing to sacrifice yourself so the rest of us could live. So we'd all be okay."

Bakura-kun's brown eyes had gotten wide, and they blinked, though Yuugi could not tell if they were blinking away hidden tears or just blinking to make sure everything was still real. He blinked, and he stared, and a moment later, he nodded.

Yuugi grinned a tiny grin and breathed out.

He knew he was taking a risk, whatever odd sort of risk it might be, by leaning forward on the couch and laying a hand on Bakura-kun's shoulder. He knew it before, and he knew it doubly so when Bakura-kun stiffened and stared at him with shimmering eyes that almost, _almost, _seemed to want to pull away and run to the other side of the room.

But Yuugi kept his hand there and gave that shoulder a gentle squeeze, like he imagined someone who was no longer here might have done for him, and he gave Bakura-kun the same soft, confident, reassuring smile his other self had always given him in times like this.

"_That's _you, Bakura-kun," he almost whispered, but in a whispering voice so strong and assured that he almost thought it wasn't himself talking at all. "That was always you. The part of you that fought back. The part of you that was willing to do anything to protect your friends. That's you."

"Yuugi-kun …"

Yuugi wasn't sure whether he heard relief, gratitude, or simple ache in that voice, though he suspected it had somehow been a combination of the three. Bakura-kun looked at him, his face now softened and the tenseness in him let go, though not quite all the way. Yuugi kept his hand on Bakura-kun's shoulder in the only expression of sympathy he was sure would make it through.

Simple. But it had always worked for him.

He swallowed, and the swallowing did not help to ease the pain in his chest. "I know … it won't be easy. For either of us." He flicked his eyes to the couch, and he paid some odd attention to how the fabric shifted with their weight. How real they were, despite all that had transpired around them. How real they were always going to be. He nodded, though he did not quite look up. "Things will be different for a long time. But … we'll be okay. We'll make it."

He turned his head up once more to look Bakura-kun in the eyes. He couldn't read the expression on his face, nor could he even tell what sort of expression he was giving. He gave Bakura-kun's shoulder one more squeeze before dropping his hand to rest on his own knee again. He waited. He waited, and at last, Bakura-kun blinked very slow and gave a quiet, sad sort of smile.

"You sound like …"

Bakura-kun paused. Yuugi quirked his head, even though he did not really need to hear the answer. "Who?"

It took a moment, in which Bakura-kun flicked his eyes about the room. He looked at the ceiling and the single light that glowed there, and the table with the teapot that was finally growing cool, and the couch that seemed worn down and familiar. The motion looked difficult and unsure. But Bakura-kun's lips twitched into something that only vaguely resembled a smile.

It was close, though. Close enough.

"… Atem-kun."

Something in Yuugi jumped, leapt up like he was being flung into the air with a broken seatbelt at the top of a roller coaster. He nearly choked on nothing and his breath caught in his throat, before he swallowed the lump forming there and calmed his restless heartbeat. He stared, but then he felt his eyes go soft.

It hurt, more than he even knew, but he smiled.

"I … guess I do, don't I?"

The ache in him remained, but it faded into a quiet ache in the back of his mind. He knew it would be there for a long time. He would be reminded of it every day, be reminded of what he had once had and what he had lost. But he would always imagine the peaceful face of the ancient king, the face of his closest friend and other self, looking down on him, and the ache would get a little easier to bear.

Yuugi laid his hands in his lap and smiled again, this time more comfortable, more real. "How about we make some more tea and get started on your homework?"

Bakura-kun blinked and stared and shook his head with a faint blush forming on his cheeks. "Oh, Yuugi-kun, you don't need to—"

"Some of it's pretty tough, and since you've been absent for a while, you might need some help to catch up."

Yuugi spoke it with a gentle confidence even he found unfamiliar and strange. But somewhere in the back of his mind, somewhere deep inside him that remembered things he knew he could never forget, it also felt right. He spoke it with an even tone and a smile that never once fell from his face, and though he did not reach out a hand to rest on Bakura-kun's shoulder, it was almost as if he did not need to.

For after a moment, the blush and the frown on the pale boy's face vanished, to make way for something that could almost be called an expression of content.

"… thank you, Yuugi-kun."

Yuugi grinned ear to ear. "What kind of tea do you want?"

Bakura-kun blinked and looked at his hands.

"I … don't know." His words were a mutter, hesitant and quiet. He shifted again, but not in the same discomfort he had shown before. He met Yuugi's eyes once again, and to Yuugi's relief, that deep chocolaty brown shone with something other than tears. "It's been a long time since I've just had tea for … tea."

Yuugi knew he could have said so many other things. He could have asked questions, he could have pulled the other boy into a hug. He could have brought out the past once more and felt it, experienced it as he had never been able to before, experience it with the boy who would have to live it through again and again in his head.

But he didn't do that. He didn't do anything like it. He just reached out and laid a soft hand again on Bakura-kun's shoulder, gentler and lighter than before, and the moment he turned his head up to look Yuugi in the eye, Yuugi smiled.

"How about we just see what kind you have then?"

It took a moment. Several seconds of staring in what might have been disbelief, what might have been shock, and what might have been some feeling even Bakura-kun couldn't read. But after several seconds, that stare faded. And at long last, those pale lips which had held far too many screams and words of fear, turned up into a smile.

Bakura-kun nodded, and followed Yuugi to stand.

Yuugi supposed someone might have looked in on them in the several hours it took before Yuugi finally had to head home to get his own homework done. Someone might have peeked in and seen two boys drinking cup after cup of tea in every flavor they could find, adding far too much sugar and likely making themselves sick from how quickly they downed each cup. But they also would have seen two boys sitting on the couch and laughing, smiling like they had not in weeks, and, for one of them, years.

The clock ticked by in the background as Yuugi and Bakura-kun pulled out board games and their Duel Monster cards, and chatted over homework and friends and life. And in the back of their minds, the shadows retreated as the light streamed in, always slow, always hesitant, but beginning as neither had imagined it would do for a very long time.

And step by step, in words and smiles, the wheel of life twitched and began to turn.


End file.
